Reading the Heart
by xxkoffeexx
Summary: She's pretty convinced he can read minds. He's pretty sure that he can't. WhitneyxMorty. Resistance shipping.


**Reading the Heart**

By xxkoffeexx

Summary: She's pretty convinced he can read minds. He's pretty sure that he can't. WhitneyxMorty. Resistanceshipping.

Disclaimer: I don't own.

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She stood on the other end of the Ecruteak Gym's foggy battle field, hands on hips and feet spread wide. Her green cap clashed horribly with the bright blond wig (it was obviously too blond to be real) and huge, black sunglasses perched on her nose like a Bug Pokemon. Tight jeans and a fluffy, black sweater completed the ensemble. It was so hot outside that the usually cool and dark Gym was uncomfortably warm; yet she was wearing a fluffy sweater. Then again, he was wearing a scarf so he couldn't talk.

"I've come to challenge you!" the girl announced in a false low voice.

Morty paused. His trainers had complained about the erratic blond girl who'd tried to sneak past them in a futile attempt to find the Leader—without battling anyone. He didn't know who she thought she was fooling, but it certainly wasn't him.

"Okay."

She fumbled with the Pokéballs on her jean belt, and then stopped. "I don't want your badge."

He nodded. Of course she wouldn't. "What do you want?"

"The truth," she said dramatically.

"What truth?"

"Nothing but the absolute truth!"

"The truth of what?"

"Of justice!" she cried.

The (natural) blond didn't have time for this, so he asked bluntly, "Why are you here?"

She stared. "To challenge you to a battle." He could sense the eye roll behind the shades.

"No Whitney, I want to know why you're standing in my Gym instead of your own, disguised in that ridiculous getup and spouting nonsense."

To her credit, she didn't break a sweat. "I'm not—it's not nonsense! My name is Brittney and I have come to defeat you!"

It was a hot day. Morty didn't really mind if Whitney-Brittney wanted to battle him, but the sun was hot and his Gym was boiling. Even the fog was starting to feel humid. He considered changing out of his warm outfit before taking on Whitney's challenge, but his scarf wouldn't match anything short-sleeved and he _did_ have his image to uphold.

Clearly, this girl did not.

"Whitney—" She sniffed and he mentally sighed. Fine. If she wanted him to play along, then he would. "_Brittney_, I'll battle you under one condition."

"What?" Suspicion.

"Winner gets to do whatever they want to the loser."

Whit—Brittney looked at him like he was crazy. He agreed. What in the world made him wager something like _that_? He blamed the heat.

Before he could say he was joking, she snapped, "Fine. Then if I win, I can take your stupid scarf."

She would do him a favor. Morty didn't faze. "_If _you win."

Her lips tightened.

Twenty minutes later, her last Pokémon fainted. Gengar grinned proudly on the field.

Morty called back his victorious Pokémon, before looking calmly at his opponent. Whi—Brittney was staring at her Clefairy, fists clenched by her sides.

"I won," he said quietly.

"I know," she gritted.

He waited. Finally, she called back her Pokémon and turned on her heel, blond wig bouncing. "Keep your stupid scarf," she muttered audibly, about to leave the Gym.

"Don't forget our wager," he reminded her, trying not to sound smug.

She whirled back, "What?"

He smiled faintly. "Our wager. Winner takes all, remember?"

"No, it's winner does whatever…" she trailed off in realization and fumed, "Fine. But only one thing!"

Morty shrugged. He only needed one. "Don't move for ten minutes," he ordered.

It took a moment for this to register. "Can I talk?" she asked darkly.

"Sure."

It was an odd command and she swallowed nervously, especially when he began walking towards her. "Um, what are you doing?"

"You'll find out soon."

"Are you keeping time?" Her voice cracked.

"Yeah."

"I only wanted to see how strong you were."

He didn't slow down. "Really?

She bobbed her head, not noticing the wig slipping a little. "A… friend of mine was frustrated because she kept losing to you. A lot of people lost to you."

Morty was within a few yards now, his violet orbs fixed on her shades. "So?"

"So… so she was angry. She wanted to know why you were so strong. She thought you must have something up your sleeve. So she asked me to battle you and find out your secret weapon. She thought it might be your scarf that has special powers. You know, since you never sleep or eat without it. "

He didn't blink. "Special powers?"

She hesitated. "You… she thought you could read people's minds."

This time his brows rose. "I'm a Ghost specialist, not a Psychic."

"Yeah, but you keep winning! It's like, you know what my next move is before I've even done it! And even though Ghost types don't do anything to Normal Pokémon, you still…" She didn't see him pause when he stepped a few feet in front of her. "I'm not the Champion or anything, but I can still hold my own—What are you doing?"

His hand was reaching for her face. Morty's lips twitched. "You're not supposed to move. Are you going to break your word?"

She bristled to hide her discomfort. "Not if you don't do anything weird!"

"Weird? You're the one wearing a wig, Whitney."

"I'm not—"

He plucked off her green cap and the blond wig fell off, revealing bubblegum pink hair. When he reached for her glasses, her arms jerked slightly, and he paused to look at her questioningly.

"Why did you disguise yourself?"

"So you would battle me fair and square," she pouted. "If you knew who I was, you probably wouldn't have taken me seriously."

He stared at her, wondering how she came up with this twisted logic. "Why?"

"Because you never do! You always say you're busy, or tell me Gym Leaders don't battle each other, or—"

"No," he cut in, "why did you want to battle me?"

She suddenly flushed and looked down. "I just wanted to know your secret." Even without her uneasy tone he could have easily known she was lying.

He removed her sunglasses. Violet eyes collided with magenta.

"That's not true, Whitney."

"See?" She stuck out her tongue childishly, but still didn't meet his eyes. "You _can_ read minds."

He opened his mouth to reply, but then stopped. Whitney was about to cry. Her fists trembled and vibrant eyes shone despite the fog. Her hair was let loose just above her shoulders, free from their customary pigtails. Her black sweater did not look so stuffy and ridiculous anymore, not when it complimented her eyes. She was so childish and yet beautiful. Morty wondered if the heat was really getting to him.

"…Are you that upset you lost?"

She sniffed. "I'm a Gym Leader. Of course I'd be upset."

"Why did you want to battle me?"

"Because I wanted to know why I keep losing and you keep winning."

Morty blinked. "You went through all this trouble, just for that?" He was beginning to wonder what planet Whitney lived on, and why he could not figure out her reasoning at all. She always complained that _he_ was mysterious, but half of the things that came out of her mouth was pure Whitney-logic.

Whitney's eyes flashed at his disbelief. "I have my pride as a Leader! I'm not weak, I know I'm strong… but all the trainers that beat me end up losing to you, and I just couldn't figure out why. I tried to see what I was doing wrong, and then I decided to fight you directly…" She glared defiantly at him. "Is that so bad? Wanting to solve my weakness?"

He smiled. "No."

She blinked.

"I'm not psychic, I can't read people's minds. But I can observe people. And I can predict what they'll do based on my observations." They were only standing a foot apart, but he still leveled a hard stare at her. "Pokémon reflect their trainers. Once you know the trainer, you can know the Pokémon's moves. And you, as a Gym Leader, should already know this."

Whitney stared back at him as if he'd screamed at her. "I… don't believe you. How could you predict all my moves just by observing me?" She blew unsuccessfully at a strand of hair that fell on her eye, and then blinked.

He gently brushed the errant strand back and tucked it behind her ear, his fingers lingering even though he told himself to pull away. "I think," he said slowly and deliberately, "it helps that I know you so well."

For a moment time seemed to stand still between them. Fog swirled and drifted like clouds, and whispers of spirits brushed his ears, but Morty was distracted by how soft her hair and skin felt. Her head was tilted upwards, magenta eyes wide and curious, pink lips parted slightly. It was the perfect moment for something (romantic) to happen, and the male part of him was very aware of this.

But instead, he moved his hand to ruffle her already messy hair and diffuse the tension. She probably didn't really catch his loaded words, but there was plenty of time for that later.

"H-hey! Stop!" Whitney didn't seem as aware of the crucial moment that had passed, but she was still blushing. "I know you pretty well too, Morty. Why can't I predict _your _moves?"

He withdrew his hand and smirked oddly. "If there's one thing you should know about Ghost types, it's that they are _not_ predictable. Normal types, on the other hand…"

Whitney caught his drift, and flushed. "You're predictable too! You can't surprise me, Morty."

The blond flipped the green cap once, placed it smartly over her head, and strolled away through the fog. He said over his shoulder, "You can move now. It's been past ten minutes." He didn't need to turn to see the surprise on her face, and he smiled.

Even if he could read minds, he wouldn't want to read hers.

"Give me my sunglasses back!"

It wouldn't be half as fun.

END

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A/N: I took a turn and wrote something out of Morty's viewpoint. He reminds me of an older, long-suffering brother, who is more aware of the situation than someone like Whitney is. He might even be capable of manipulating some things, just to push for the results that he wants. But I don't think he would manipulate Whitney. Maybe. Anyways, I'm just thinking on the page…

Tell me what you think about this. There's very little plot, but you know that I just like to write about Morty and Whitney. :P


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